Put Your Hands Into the Fire
by ghostlywhitedirewolf
Summary: The road is no place for the sick. It's especially not the place for a highborn girl with a case of the flu.


**Put Your Hands Into the Fire**

**By**

**Ghostlywhitedirewolf**

* * *

**AN: **Just a super short drabble because I miss writing for this pairing, but I've had literally no inspiration. If you have any ideas, message me on my tumblr: Ghostlywhitedirewolf or leave a review!

* * *

The first time Gendry heard her cough; he didn't give it a second thought. The air was cold at this time of a morning and the smoke from the simmering fire hit the back of his throat, making him feel like some of the smokers in the pub that his master used to frequent.

He and Yoren both looked up when she coughed again, small frame hunched in front of the fire, cloak pulled tightly around her in an attempt to block out the cold winds.

"You alright there, Arry?" Yoren called.

She nodded but didn't speak and Gendry could see the unnatural redness of her nose, an inflamed red rather than a frost-nipped red.

"Maybe Arry should ride in the cart today?" Gendry suggested quietly, turning towards Yoren with a knowing frown.

The older man nodded; weathered face creasing into a frown. "Probably for the best, just until he gets back on his feet."

Gendry saw Arya glare at him, wanting to refuse any assistance.

Needing help was a weakness in Arya's eyes, Gendry knew this, but he also knew how small she was. Emotional strength didn't make up for physical limitations and he recognized that Arya would push herself right over the edge to prove she could keep up with them.

To prove that she was good enough.

Strong enough.

Just, _enough._

He shrugged one shoulder and shot her a small smile in an attempt to appease her, earning himself a scathing look, the heat of the expression lost on her pale face and red nose.

* * *

Her coughing had worsened gradually throughout the day. The road was no place for a girl, no place for the sick. Definitely no place for a sick young girl. The road was hard and cruel and despite the mountain of armour and cloaks, Arya was shivering, her face flushed from fever.

Gendry felt a rush of protectiveness towards her; she shouldn't be here. She should be safe with her family at Winterfell, back with the other highborns. Not out here with the kingdom's scum. She didn't belong here, amongst the murderers, rapists and other social rejects.

"Come on Arry," he muttered, helping her down from the cart and leading her towards where the campfire that was being lit. "Sit here, we'll get some food down you and try to warm you up a bit."

"Too hot." Arya mumbled, allowing him to sit her down on a log.

"You're not too hot, that's just the fever talking. You need to stay warm and sweat it out. You'll feel better once it breaks." He told her, gentle hands on her shoulders to hold her down on the log as she tried to stand again. "Stay."

"Where are you going?" she asked, angling her head to look up at him as he moved to step away.

"To get you another cloak before everyone settles for the night," Gendry replied, "I'll be right back."

Arya nodded, seemingly appeased, but her eyes followed him as he walked over to the cart, pulling out a heavy cloak and making his way back to her.

"Here. Move over." Gendry said gently, sitting on the floor with his back up against the log, pulling the cloak around his shoulders and holding one half of it open for Arya to slide in under his arm.

The younger girl eyed him almost warily for a moment. "No."

"Yes, sharing of body heat. You'll warm up quicker. Right now your nose looks like it's about to fall off from the cold. Just keep your runny nose to yourself okay?" Gendry tugged lightly on the edge of her pants and her resolve crumbled.

Arya tucked herself into his side, allowing him to wrap the cloak around them both as she leaned her head against his chest.

"I don't feel good," She mumbled, voice quiet as her eyes drooped.

"I know m'lady."

Gendry wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer to him and trying to ignore how fragile she felt in his arms. He wondered how something so small could go through what she'd been through, was _still_ going through, and come out of the other side fighting.

"I can't be sick. I can't slow everyone down." She said, voice barely above a whisper.

"You're not slowing us down, don't worry. You might just have to ride with the armour for a day or two. You need to get better so that we can get you home." Gendry spoke quietly, not wanting the men who were mulling around them waiting for food to overhear.

"I hate this. I hate the cold. Winter is coming and I wish it would just stay away." She told him, her anger sounding feeble due to her blocked nose.

Gendry laughed lightly, ruffling her scraggy hair. "Winter's no good for anyone. Food doesn't grow and everything freezes. No good at all."

"I want to go home." She admitted, sounding more like the child that she was than Gendry had ever heard before.

"You will m'lady. It'll all be worth it when you're back with your family." Gendry soothed, smiling slightly as Yoren handed him two bowls of food. "C'mon, you have to eat something."

He placed the bowl in her lap, ignoring the grimace that she failed to hide at the smell. The men weren't known for their cooking skills, but it was hot and better than nothing. They were luckier than most to even have food.

"I don't–" Arya started.

"Eat. Come on, you need to keep your strength up." Gendry insisted.

He waited for her to take a sip before starting on his own food, ignoring the taste and instead focusing on how much Arya had eaten.

* * *

When she had consumed half of the bowl, she looked up at him, eyelids heavy as she shook her head lightly. "I can't. No more."

Gendry nodded, "that's okay, as long as you've eaten something. You'd feel worse in the morning with an empty belly."

Arya didn't reply, instead discarding her bowl and pressing her small frame against his larger one, tucking her hand between their bodies and leaning her head against the juncture where his shoulder met his chest, eyes already closing.

"Can I sleep now?" she asked blearily.

"Of course m'lady."

Gendry rubbed a hand soothingly up and down her back, drawing circles with his fingers over her clothes in the same way that he remembered his mother doing when he were a child, feeling Arya's head grow heavy against his chest as her small frame slumped against him.

"He feeling better?" Gendry heard Yoren ask, the older man coming to sit beside them.

"Not really, once his fever breaks I think he'll feel better. He'll be okay." Gendry pressed a hand to Arya's forehead, feeling the unnatural heat radiating from her.

Yoren looked down at her and Gendry could have sworn that he almost looked fond, if the man's weather beaten face were capable of the expression.

"Shouldn't be here." Yoren stated and Gendry nodded his agreement, the inexplicable protectiveness he felt towards Arya returning.

"Let him get some rest. We'll see how things look in the morning." Yoren told him, pulling his own cloak around him and settling down for the night.

Gendry shuffled Arya gently as he lay down, ignoring her grumble of protest as he pulled her down next to him, settling her against his chest so that her forehead rested against his sternum.

"Night m'lady." He muttered, pressing his face into her hair.

"Shut up Gendry." Came the reply and he laughed.

She was going to be fine.

* * *

_El fin._

* * *

Make a poorly girl happy and leave a review?


End file.
